


Days Like These

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, None - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a lazy morning in bed finds Jim helping Blair dispose of all his worldly goods while simultaneously discussing the automotive merits of the Geo Prism vs. Volvos -- with Simon.  My first *non* first time story!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Days Like These

## 

Days Like These

by Meredith Lynne

Author's homepage: <http://www.trickster.org/radiofree/>

All standard disclaimers apply. 

Warnings: THERE IS NO ANGST IN THIS STORY. I promise. 

Note: This started off several months back as a birthday story for Shelley. Shelley... um... Happy birthday. *grin* As it stands, it's just a fun little vignette about Jim and Blair and a morning after the night before... And it's NOT a first time story, can you believe it? My first non-first-time story! It starts in the middle and continues on through the middle for a bit and then stops. <G> Many thanks and love to the Hive for beta-reading, and to Nita as always... Enjoy! I thought maybe we needed a little laughter...

* * *

Days Like These  
by Merry Lynne 

[8:00 am]

"Sandburg."

"mph."

"Sandburg, c'mon."

"Mph?! mmmm."

"BLAIR!"

One baleful, sleep-fogged, blood-shot eye cracked open and searched out the source of the noise. It found a tall, naked, blue-eyed man with a body that could melt rocks and a blinding smile that could power a small Third World nation. 

Jim Ellison: Friend, partner, mate.

Tormentor.

"WHAT?" Blair demanded irritably, throwing his body upward and somehow managing to flip completely over in midair. He landed facing away from Jim and the window, both of which were way too bright and cheery for such an ungodly hour. "Leave me alone," he said clearly into a mouthful of blanket. 

"Blair, we've got to be at the station in half an hour. You need to shower."

"Do not."

Jim leaned in close and whispered, his breath feathering lightly over the back of Blair's neck. "I don't have to be a sentinel to say this with authority, my friend: You *do*."

Armed only with his boring little un-enhanced ears, Blair would've sworn he could *hear* Jim grinning. "I'll shower in the morning."

"It *is* the morning."

"*Tomorrow* morning," Blair clarified, flopping over onto his back. His head throbbed dully in time with the rhythmic roar of his pulse as it pounded in his ears. "I have to sleep at least another twenty hours to make up for last night."

"Last night was amazing," Jim said, his voice smoky-soft.

"Last night nearly killed me. I can't bear to think about it."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself at the time..."

"Temporary insanity. I fell off the table *twice*, Jim, and you didn't do a thing to help me."

"You're a grown man, Sandburg. And you looked like you were having such a great time..."

"Oh, man." Memory crashed in on him, in spite of his best attempts to fend it off. "Billy Joel and Cuervo Gold. Why can't I just black out like any sane person would? And you...! You call yourself my blessed protector?"

"My Life, Innocent Man, You May Be Right -- twice! Who knew you could sing like that?"

"Hell," a deep voice said from down below. "Who knew he could *dance* like that?"

Blair's eyes flew open wide, finding Jim's in a moment of unadulterated horror. When no denial could be found in those amused blue depths, he shut them again, tight, and slowly went pale.

"Simon?" he said. His tone was conversational, calm, even...

...well.

Not precisely even. 

"Morning, kid," Simon answered cheerily. 

Expelling a pent up breath, Blair reached for the railing behind him and hauled himself up to look through and down.

Simon Banks, all sixfootwhatever of him, sat low on their couch, feet propped on the coffee table remote control in one hand, steaming coffeemug in the other. The grin splitting his face was both amused and self-satisfied as he looked up into Blair's shocked face.

Blair let himself fall back onto the bed with a strangled moan, his eyes locked on the ceiling above. "You know I love you," he said quietly to Jim, who had yet to stop grinning, "but I'm going to have to kill myself. You can have the Volvo."

"Uh-uh. Not until you get it checked out by somebody who isn't doing time. I *will* take the lap-top, though, if you throw in Eudora Pro 4.0 and that superdeluxe Solitaire program. Give Daryl the Volvo."

"No way," Simon said from the top of the stairs. Blair and Jim turned their heads as one, to find him leaning back against the bricks like he was the only thing keeping the wall vertical. 

Jim blinked, looking startled, and for a moment Blair entertained fantasies of Jim ordering Simon out of the bedroom, out of the loft, out of range of Blair's flaming cheeks. 

Then Jim's brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to one side. "You don't think Daryl would want the Volvo?"

Groaning, Blair slugged his partner with a pillowcovered fist. "Simon...we're like *naked* here. Do you *mind*?"

Simon nodded solemnly. "Noticed that." Not cracking a smile, the captain pulled out a small, tasteful black wallet and flashed his badge. "I'm a cop."

Blair looked back up at the ceiling. "I'm very happy for you."

Simon grinned as if Blair had offered a compliment, and flipped a fat, sweet-smelling cigar into his mouth. "You do yourself in," he said around it, "you're taking that junkheap with you. I don't need my kid stranded ten miles south of no-place, trying to get through to Triple-A on a cell phone he probably forgot to recharge, two hours past his curfew, while I pace around my living room, nursing an ulcer and slowly going grey."

"Yeah?" Jim's eyes lit up, suddenly curious. "What *are* you gonna get him?" 

"Probably a Geo."

Sliding down, pulling the comforter over his head, Blair sighed with utter resignation.

The day stretched out ahead of him, interminable. 

Five minutes down.

1435 to go. 

_________________

"I would like to take a shower now," Blair said, quietly, with great dignity.

Jim glanced down and smiled. The only part of Blair currently visible was his hair, tousled and smelling like Cuervo Gold. The lump under the blankets had grumbled for a bit, then fallen silent as the two cops had discussed the relative merits of the Geo Prism vs. the Honda Civic and whether to lease or just buy outright. Jim thought for a few minutes Blair had gone back to sleep, but then his guide had tossed out a warning about pennies per mile and balloon payments, all without emerging from the relative safety of his cocoon.

"So, get up and take one," Jim said, tugging the blanket from Blair's face. Totally ignoring Simon's long-suffering sigh, he leaned down and pressed a soft, easy kiss into his partner's mouth. He let his tongue linger, tasting warmth and alcohol and mint, and smiled against Blair's lips. Even after drinking half of the detectives of Major Crimes under the table, Blair had insisted on brushing his teeth before joining Jim in bed, in deference to his sentinel's enhanced senses. 

Or so he'd *said*; Jim was fairly sure the kid had been hoping to get lucky. Sadly, unconsciousness had claimed him before Jim could. Now, in mid-kiss, Blair opened one eye -- and Jim almost felt the moment his lover decided to play.

A second later, he was on his back under Blair, being kissed as if kissing were about to be outlawed.

"Mph," he said around his partner's tongue, a moment of protest at Blair's weight and speed and the general suddenness of the assault. 

"Shut up," Blair muttered, easing down to Jim's throat. "I'm a teacher. Simon will either go home or get an education."

"Blair--"

"I can work with an audience of up to two hundred in a lecture hall; I can handle an audience of one, here."

"Chief!"

With a growl of irritation, Blair detached himself from Jim's neck and pushed himself up on his elbows. He glared down into Jim's face, eyes glowing with a mix of irritation and amusement. "I totally humiliated myself last night. I'm hung over. I can't sleep, and I can't have *you*. Give me a reason to live, Ellison." Jim started to turn his head toward Simon, hoping for sympathy, but Blair stopped him with a hand on his jaw and forced eye contact. "Why are you looking at Simon?" he asked, almost sweetly. Blair's tone was conversational, but there was just the slightest edge to his voice that didn't bode well for Jim if he couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer.

"Simon's our ride in to the station. He drove us home last night."

Blair buried his face in Jim's shoulder and groaned. "This is not happening."

"Look on the bright side," Jim suggested, grinning, knowing he was about to get smacked. 

"There's a bright side?"

"At least you blacked out on *part* of it...."

The look on Blair's face was more than worth the pain.

____________

[9:25 am]

"We're gonna be late," Simon said, with utter disgust, for about the twentieth time. He yanked the wheel a little harder than necessary on the turn into the parking garage, sending Blair rocking into the door.

"I thought you were going to put on your seatbelt, Sandburg," Jim said from the front passenger seat. 

He wasn't surprised when Blair totally ignored him, leaning forward instead to answer Simon's complaint.

"Hey, man, who was it who decided to hang out in my bedroom this morning? If I hadn't had to hide my charms from Captain Voyeur, I could've been in and out of the shower ten minutes after I woke up."

Jim turned his head toward his window, hiding a grin. In the end, only the threat of revealing *both* their 'charms' had managed to drive Simon back down to the living room.

"Just taking an interest in the lives of my people, Sandburg," Simon said guilelessly.

"Take much more of an interest, and Jim'll take off an arm," Blair warned. "He's way possessive. I think it's a sentinel thing. Right, Jim?"

"Who was it who bit the head off Shelley from accounting last Tuesday?"

Blair frowned. "I thought we weren't going to be bringing that up anymore."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"She was all over you, man."

"She just wanted a birthday hug."

Blair rolled his eyes and leaned back into his own seat, sulking. "I have to be naked to get a hug like that," he muttered.

Jim turned to look over his shoulder, and offered a lurid grin. "Then maybe you should think about being naked more often."

"Maybe you should think about what'll happen to you next time I have to peel you off an accounting clerk," Blair returned.

Bristling with indignation, Jim rose to his own defense. "She's not just a clerk. She heads up the whole department."

"That is so *not* the issue here--"

"Enough already!" Simon screeched the car to a halt, unclasped his seatbelt and turned to glare at both of them. "If I promise never to go near the loft again, as long as I live, so help me God...will you two PLEASE change the subject?"

One heart, one mind, one breath, one word. In the same tone and with the same enthusiasm, both men answered.

"YES!" 

* * *

End Days Like These.


End file.
